


Red

by awildlokiappears



Series: Love Lives Free [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, I ship Clintasha, SO, and all three together, and phlint, but this is a hurt/comfort fic, one of my favorite otps, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildlokiappears/pseuds/awildlokiappears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scarlet. Crimson. Carmine...There were a hundred words to describe the Black Widow, and most of them had to do with the blood she spilled. All he could ever think about was the red in her hair that matched the green of her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

"...you're not taking your bow?" Clint finished packing up his cold weather gear and waved Nat over, eyes softening as she straddled the bench he was sitting on.

  
"Well, I thought about it for a little bit after T'Challa got us that intel, but let's be honest, even my composite is a bitch to pull in the cold weather, and I really don't feel like loosing a finger or two to frostbite, waiting for a shot. I've got my rifle, and a stock of pistols; I'll be just fine."

  
"Well, yeah, you never have missed...it's just very weird to see you without the bow and quiver."

  
"Eh, it's a comfort thing, usually. But we're going into Siberia in deep winter; screw comfort, I'm going with practical this time around."

  
"...Coulson would be so proud." He snorted and flipped her off; she grinned, all teeth and crinkled eyes, and swatted his head, standing back up to drag out her own gear. It didn't take them long to get ready, after all these years. She moved fast and light, packing knives, guns, and snow gear as he prepped the Quinjet and refueled and refilled the deicer tanks, the quiet strains of old rock sifting through the private hanger T'Challa had allowed them to use.  
Clint had to admit, despite their rather...tense first meeting, he had grown pretty friendly with the King; T'Challa was a hell of a shot with darts, and Clint enjoyed an actual challenge; he'd even lost a few games, which, despite the slight blow to his ego, made him cackle with delight over everyone else's dropped jaws. And funnily enough, T'Challa was one of the few now in on his own secret; Nat, of course, had known long before anyone else.

  
Laura and the kids were his family...they just weren't his wife and kids. They were Barney's; Clint had just played Dad when the Avengers came around because after Steve blowing up the Triskellion, Barn was still in deep cover, and thankfully, Nat had kept all the missions under the ivy from being leaked. He didn't know how she'd done it, and frankly, he didn't want to. It was enough to know that his brother was safe, and that his nephews and niece would be seeing their real daddy soon. Hell, little Nate hadn't even met him yet...His phone beeped at him as he came back into the jet, and glancing at the message, the relief made him limp.

  
_I'm home, baby bro; thanks for everything._

  
_no prob, give hugs for me. nat and i are going to siberia for a while_

  
_Will do. Laura says that when you're done, you're both coming home for dinner. Best obey that._

  
_like we could ever say no? will let u know when stateside again._

  
_Roger that. Trickshot out._

  
_Hawkeye out._ He grinned, and stowed his phone, pulling on the warm fleece as he hummed a little.

  
"...good news?"

  
"Barney's home." Natasha's chuckle warmed him a little more, and her slender hand squeezed his shoulder.

  
"Good. I know how much you worry about him, and how much he worries about you."

  
"Yeah, kinda goes hand in hand with being a pain in the ass little brother. Oh, we're supposed to go visit and have dinner when we get back to Iowa again. Laura's orders." She laughed at that, and settled in the co-pilot's seat, every bit his partner once more.

  
"Then we better find that damn deprogramming code, and get back home." He glanced at her at that; sure, she loved going to the farmhouse, loved the peace of the countryside and the freedom to just roam if she wanted to...but that was the first time she'd ever used the word home. She caught his look, just like always, and raised an eyebrow in response. "Don't side-eye me like that, Clint. Just because I don't say it, doesn't mean it's not true." His lips kicked up at that, and she rolled her eyes.

  
"Well, there's been a lot going on, can't blame me for noticing new things."

  
"...Yeah, I suppose. Alright. Let's get going; they're all counting on us." He smiled, and reached over, taking her hand in his and squeezing it, ever so lightly; her fingers tightened in his as he started the take off sequence.

  
"And we're not gonna let them down."

* * *

  
Clint was never more grateful in his life than the moment T'Challa had become their ally. The vibranium laced armor and snow gear he'd equipped them with was...on a level so far above what SHIELD had had that it absolutely astounded him. They could move easily in snow and ice so cold and deep that they would have retreated to the abandoned bunker ages ago, had they been wearing any of their old gear. Instead, they'd just gotten down to the bottom of the gorge and set up their secondary camp, safety and concern for their own well-being taking precedence over stealth now.

  
They'd been there for two days already, spending most of that time setting up a perimeter and making a plan before they descended. The camp was ringed in bright orange fencing, and their tent was a neon red, the reflective tape on everything a bit annoying, but come nightfall, a welcome sight. They had thermal scanners from the jet keeping track of everything in the area, down to the occasional arctic fox wandering through, though both of them doubted that they'd be bothered. Hydra was broken now, with the Baron gone, and none of the scientists or lackeys would even consider raiding an abandoned, collapsing base in the middle of the tundra. It was a win-win in his book.

  
Nat was about fifty paces ahead, probing the snow with a scanner and long pole; she was light enough to walk on the snow itself, so Clint broke ground behind her, firming up the walls and making a safe pathway as he laid down the grating that led back to their tent. Part of this was to make the excavation easier; if the book was down here, so might be other tech, and they were going to try and find as much as possible. The other part was self-preservation, because the snow was still falling, and Clint refused to be in a position where they didn't have a way out...because even with the amazing gear, getting trapped still meant freezing to death.

  
He'd already cleared an area back by the cliff face for their climbing gear, so this was easy stuff; break it down, stomp, lay grating, and firm the walls. He didn't mind the repetitive work, because it was a break away from his usual stance of sitting for hours on end, bored out of his mind. This was...invigorating, a nice change of pace...and his head popped up the moment Nat gave an excited, muffled shout. She placed a marker on the spot, then glided back to him, and with her help, they made it to her flag in under an hour.

  
There it was; the book must have plunged through the snow, because it wasn't even coated in ice, except a little on the top, and it was Nat who led the way back to the tent. Sure, they had most of the day still, but they had their main objective, and they were both due a break; Clint figured it wouldn't hurt to cut it for the day, then start again tomorrow. Besides...they needed to talk, just the two of them. And dinner always made those talks go just a little bit easier.

* * *

  
"...my god, what they did to him..." Clint held his peace as she perused the book, their lanterns making the interior of the tent a little more homey, though the heater was doing a much more admirable job in keeping it warm while he cooked their dinner over the burner. It was just stew; dried meat and some freeze-dried veggies that he whipped up, but it was warm and filling, and they had some biscuits that weren't hard as rock to go with it. Natasha looked...horrified, and slightly enthralled by the writings before her, taking notes as she went.

  
He let her go on for a little while longer, then carefully, gently took the book out of her hands, and replaced it with a steaming bowl and a plate of cut up biscuit. The look of confusion very nearly made him cry; it wasn't often that she reverted back to the seventeen year old girl he'd brought in, so, so long ago, with the huge green-blue eyes and the soft curls of red hair. He wanted to hold her like he'd wanted to back then, just cuddle all the bad memories away (and shoot all the fuckers who'd hurt her in the face). But he knew better right now; she needed a little distance to come back to herself.

  
"Eat, Natasha, it's getting dark out." It was a pass phrase they'd used during her own deprogramming, and while he hated using it, even with his voice as soft and gentle as he could make it, he was a tiny bit grateful that it worked. Her eyes fell from his, and she ate, slowly coming back to herself as the silence between them stretched and relaxed. Finally, they were done, and he wiped up the dishes while she put her thoughts in order.

  
"...sorry about that. I...didn't realize just how bad it was making me..." Clint's lips softened and he opened his arms to her, leaving the decision in the air...and her strong body tucked itself under his chin, wrapped tight around his waist. He let his hands come down on her back, rubbing away the tension through her sweater, and tucking her between his legs as he leaned back against their packs, throwing a couple blankets over them both.

  
"It's alright, Nat; I just didn't want you going too much farther down that rabbit hole..."

  
"...I know. I so easily could, though; it's made to be read for an asset, too, and many of the phrases they used on me, they got from this book." He winced, and she sighed, shifting topics. "I know...and I also know you wanted to talk to me. I'm...going to guess it's about us? Or to be more precise, Bruce?"  
"More that I wanted to know what you wanted to do, sweetheart. If you wanna keep looking for him, and try things out with him, then I'm here for you. If you don't...well, I'm still here for you. You're my best friend, you're my partner; we've seen each other bleeding and broken and wanting. We've fought, and fucked, and made love, and even just hung out. And I'm here, happy to keep doing that if you want to. If you don't, then I'm here for you as your friend and partner." He ignored the catch in his throat, and focused on the feel of her in his arms, soothing as always when she cuddled. Things had gone to shit between him and Coulson, for all that he'd wished they hadn't...he really did love him. But Phil...wasn't the same Phil he'd fallen in love with, and well...Natasha hadn't changed. Or rather, the core of her hadn't; she'd grown up, same as he had.

  
"...Even though I care about him, I don't think it's going to work. Bruce doesn't want it to, and I...well. I'm tired of waiting around. I want you to stay, Clint. As long as you'll have me." He only smiled, and pressed a kiss to her hair, tucking her even closer as the winds outside howled.

  
"...in that case, how does retirement sound?" Her laugh, spilling from those curvy red lips, warmed him to the core, and he couldn't help but kiss her, again and again. So long as he always had that glimpse of red in his vision...

  
He'd never miss.


End file.
